


Between the Two of Us

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what other tags are needed, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Scents & Smells, kink discussion, light body horror?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: Snapshots of one-on-one moments between some of our boys. :) Dick and Crowley are reunited. Dean runs into Mikey before work. Sam brings home the gift basket from Luci and opens it with Dean.





	Between the Two of Us

Dick wakes up heart hammering, swearing he hears something from the hallway. On high alert, he rolls out of bed. He stalks towards the hallway dropping fangs and claws as he goes. The door opens as he gets there, he tenses up ready to pounce but catches a familiar scent that stops him. “Crowl?”

The light switches on and there he is, unshaven looking exhausted, smelling of fatigue, worry, and stress. “Lucifer called.”

Dick retracts his claws and reaches for him. Crowley drops his bag and steps into the requested embrace. Dick burrows his nose in the crook of Crowley's neck and breathes deeply. 

“Are we celebrating or mourning, love?” Crowley asks quietly, holding on hard to Dick.

Suddenly Dick can’t answer even if he wants to. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow past. His scent says it all, before his eyes even start to sting. Crowley doesn’t say anything more for a long while. He just holds him, purring soothingly while something dislodges inside of Dick and he cries.

* * *

Mike stares at himself in the mirror, leaning on the bathroom sink of the hotel room. ‘ _Pretty little Alpha boy wants a grown man’s knot?_ ’ Sasha’s voice in his head makes him smile to himself, cheeks heating up. It's hard to tell if it's being called 'pretty’ or 'little boy’ that has this effect on him. But lately, he seems unable to look at himself in the mirror without holding himself up to the epithet 'pretty little boy’. He feels like neither, but he kinda wants to.

Dean wraps his arms around him from behind, eyes twinkling as he meets Mike’s flaring gaze through the mirror. His content breastbone purr hasn’t let up since they both had come and laid knotted together afterwards. Now it vibrates like a hum where Dean’s naked chest is pressed against his spine. “What are you thinking about?”

Mike averts his gaze, flushing harder still smiling. “Don’t be mad, but I was thinking of someone else.”

“Uhuh?” Dean asks curiously. His minty eyes are flaring bright and his scent is content and happy. It doesn’t change despite the confession. “She must be something special to make you blush that adorably.”

“What? Oh, no.” Mike’s gaze snaps back to Dean’s. “If it was another O I don't know if I would have dared to tell you.”

“That's bullshit. You courting another O for mateship would be vital knowledge for me. If you're not? Polite knottings don't even register on my radar. And I'm a hedonistic sonnova bitch. Blowing off some steam is fine by me. Ain't gonna lie, I might throw a fit about it once in a while, but generally speaking, the way I see it, I don't have to be the only one to have you, to _have_ you, you feel me?”

Mike does. That's a common Packrunner attitude. Not everyone is that generous but amongst people who don't believe in Truemates jealousy is less of a problem. Mike bets that if Dean's little brother comes home smelling of another Omega Dean would throw a fit as big as the one Lucifer threw. It's pack politics. Is this person a threat to my position in the pack? Is he/she trying to steal a pack member from us? Is he/she going to be a burden? _That's_ what Luci's fit was about. It warms Mike’s heart that their father only asked that he didn’t let a stranger claim their territory, but wouldn’t stop anyone from sniping him if that’s what he wanted. He doesn’t want that, but he appreciates it anyway.

Thinking back on Sasha's behavior, the way he'd marked the wall on the way out… out of context it would appear aggressively dominant. But within the context of him leaving somebody completely incapacitated, unable to defend themselves like Mike had been while floating in total bliss for about 15 minutes, it's protective. A Primal message to anyone entering, saying that someone has claimed Mike and will defend him. Lucifer didn't know how high Mike got from siphoning. That state of bliss wasn't normal. 

“Duly noted,” he answers with amusement.

“So who were you thinking about?”

“Do you remember the Siberian?”

Dean laughs. “Sash? Fuck yeah. We've become good friends. Fucker refuses to knot me, though. He's all ' _Eyy. If I knot, I pot cub in your bellie. Your not reddy,_ ’” he mimics making Mike laugh.

“He doesn’t sound like that!” Mike protests and grins at Dean’s reflection while hugging Dean’s arms around his midriff.

“Pfft. Close enough. So you’ve got the hots for him? Cuz I’m telling ya, I’ve jerked off thinking about you two together.”

“You have?”

“Mmmhm. So if you wanna play another 3-way game, I’m all for it.” Dean says with a playful smirk. “I’d suggest we call him right now, but I need to be at work in half an hour.”

“You don’t take offense when he calls you a little boy and calls himself a grown man?” Mike asks curiously.

“Nah. I dunno how old he is but I’m pretty sure he’s a lot older than us. To my thinking, when he was our age he _was_ a little boy still. Maybe newly presented or something. How bout you? Shouldn’t you as an Alpha get all huffy about it?”

Mike hesitates before answering. “Maybe I should… but to me, it just feels liberating. He’s very respectful, giving what I want, hearing the unspoken words and never taking anything by force. It makes me feel…” Mike clicks his tongue in search of words.

“Like you can put down the boss man mantle for once?” Dean fills in with a lopsided smile.

“Yes. I get to be myself at home, but in public, I’m always the high ranking man who has to keep it together. It’s wearing on me, to be honest. Me and my brothers share the responsibility of running the company, but if we can’t agree I’ve got veto right. Sasha… From a Primal perspective he outranks me so it doesn’t feel wrong to, um… submit.”

Dean sniggers. “Look at you. Blushing adorably again. But alright. I get it.”

Mike lets out an amused huff. “I told my father about him. Said that he isn’t human. You know what father answered? ‘I don’t care if he sprouts tentacles and bat wings when he shifts, if he looks human unshifted then he’s human’. Or something like that.”

“I like your old man’s attitude,” Dean grins, then looks up with a pensive expression. “...You think there are people with tentacles? Because when I think about it, I think I can get behind that.”

Mike laughs. “Tentacle porn?”

“Why the fuck not? Could be hot. And while we’re at the subject of other partners, I ain’t keeping my knees together. Until we’re mated, _if_ we get mated, you ain’t got no say in who knots me. And when it comes to polite knottings when you’re not around, I’m not gonna say no if I feel like it even after we get mated. Actual sex can be discussed, but not help to alleviate Heat symptoms on public transit or whatever.”

“Sounds fair. You, uh… when was the last time you… uh?”

Dean grins. “You sure you want to know? It was purely recreational, not another suitor.”

“I’m sure.”

Dean puts his lips to Mike’s ear and holds his gaze in the mirror not to miss his reaction. “Let’s just say Mick has the weirdest kink I’ve ever come across and Ketch helped me make sure the Omega pants were serving their purpose.” He bursts out laughing at Mike’s expression and sudden smell of mixed feelings. Jealousy, anger, arousal, distress. “Dude! I told you, they’re no threat to you. Ain’t got no interest in anything substantial with them. Could hardly stand Ketch but hatebanging him in every changing room I was in was fucking hot.”

Mike swallows his resentful feelings. His jealousy is complicated, founded in insecurity and worry that someone else will mate Dean before he’s won him over. “What’s Mick’s weird kink?” he asks instead.

“He likes to suck on Omegas’ tits. Nothing more. Just lie curled up in our laps suckling like a kit. According to Ketch he prefers if we’re lactating, but it does it for him either way. Like, the dude can come from doing just that and nothing else. So I let him. I ain’t judging. I gave him a handjob while he was at it. Got me all riled up since I’ve got sensitive nipples.”

“You did that in the changing rooms too?”

“Nah, man. In the back of the car with Ketch running snide commentary from the driver’s seat. They’re like an old, mated couple those two. But a Conservative couple that can’t stand each other. I thought Ketch was Conservative as fuck, but apparently, Sasha only hires Primals. Coulda fooled me.”

Mike hums. “Had you been with Ketch when I met you this morning?” Lucifer hates travelling alone and fussed nervously all night. Mike got up early to soothe him and decided to go to the office at the same time as Luci headed for the airport. He’d run into Dean just outside the office at 5:45 AM.

“Hell no. I, uh.” Dean huffs a self-deprecating little laugh. “Would you believe I’m a bit nervous? I’m supposed to slave for Bartholomew today and that guy acted like he wanted to squish me like a bug. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d come in early and give Rufus a hand cleaning a couple of floors. You know, do something familiar to calm my nerves?”

“I’m glad you did. But, ‘slave’ is a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?”

“I fucking hope so.”

“Don’t worry. Bartholomew might be aloof and demanding, but he’s whip-sharp and great at what he does. His intention isn’t to squish you, it’s to hone you into excellency.”

“Whatever, man. I think this type of distraction was way better than mopping floors.” Dean’s smile is toothy and his minty flare full of mischief. He’s naked still, just like Mike, but he’d been dressed in one of his new suits when Mike spotted him and for once his dress matched his prosperous scent. He’d been too hot to resist. Mike had started deep-purring before he’d even said hello and they’d ended up at the hotel across from the office.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

Dick swallows thickly, holding back words. The bond between them is once again saturating his scent, and for the first time ever, Crowley’s too. Not just a scent of being bonded - this time specifically to Dick. But there’s a problem. It’s not a mating bond. Crowley’s fingers trail up and down his naked spine in a gentle caress. Dick plays with the patch of hair on Crowley’s chest, fingers trailing over the colourful tattoo covering most of his pec over his heart. He’s got tattoos on his upper arms too. Dick loves them. Crowley claims he just thought they looked cool. It’s a lie. They mean something symbolic that he doesn’t want to share. Hellfire and green, Chinese dragons, something carp-like with too many teeth. Dick’s okay with Crowl not sharing their meaning. They both have their personal baggage that they don’t let the other help carry. The scent of sex is strong in the air but the apartment smells of Dick and Dean. The bond to Dean is almost as strong as the bond to Crowley in Dick's scent. The bond to Crowley, a friendship bond. Back to where they once started. Dick doesn't know how to approach the matter so he says nothing. Crowley still has the mating bond intact. It's strange because he smells mated like he's always done. But to whom remains undefined. But there's also a new bond and it's the friendship bond with Dick’s marker. Dick aches.

“I guess this confirms it,” Crowley states after a long silence.

“Confirms what?”

“You’ve got wanderlust, love.”

“I don't. I love you, dear.”

“Never doubted that for a second, darling. But it doesn't change the fact that you have wanderlust. If you didn't, we'd be mated right now.”

“We _are_ mated,” Dick refutes and clings harder to Crowley's chest, a desperate feeling translating to his scent. “We'll just have to repeat until―”

“Drop the tosh, love. I'm not a Prog. If there's no mating bond we're not mated. Not now that you’re not scentless. You don't want me that way anymore. Haven't for a long time.” Crowley's words may be harsh but he hugs Dick closer and burrows his nose in his hair.

“That's not true.”

Crowley sighs. “You don't think I was aware, darling? During our best time our bond lasted for three weeks, sometimes four when I went out of town. It's been getting shorter. We were down to four _days_. It's been that way since it stood clear that we no longer want the same thing from the future.”

“Don’t we? You, me, and Balt would be happy together…”

“That'd make us Packrunners, darling. I never want to become a Packrunner.”

“But when he's here we're happy the three of us. I don't understand, dear.”

“It's a temporary thing. I can live with that. But settling for that for life? No.”

“So you're leaving me. Last time I spoke to him Balt said that his youngest’s scent is changing. He'll be presenting as an Alpha within months.”

“I'm not leaving you, darling. It's the other way around. It's always been you who'll leave.”

“But… you've been waiting for Balt?”

Crowley scoffs. “He chose his blasted offspring. You chose me. I'm not the type to leave, love.” 

“I slept with Sebastian,” Dick confesses unprompted.

Crowley sputters. “That bloody wanker! Let me guess? You went to him because you lost your marbles when you got your scent and he couldn't keep it in his pants once he smelled how smashing you are.”

“Mmh. He took me to his beach house. We fucked like animals all over, with total disregard for our mates. It was great. Why is sex better when you're not scentless?”

Crowley gnashes his teeth. “I bloody hate the Wednesday wanker. I always knew he wanted to knot you. The knobhead.” Crowley and Seb have met several times over the years. Seb has a special smile he reserves especially for Crowl, one that says ‘I’m fucking your mate and you have no idea’. Dick’s not going to admit that they’ve been screwing since before he and Crowley even got mated.

“It feels like everyone wants to knot me now,” Dick goes on. “But Lucifer surprised me. If it was someone I'd expected to act like a knothead, it was him. But he barely acknowledged that I have a scent.”

“It surprised you? It shouldn't. He might be a nob, but I've never met anyone so adamant his partner really wants to be with him. You’re emotionally compromised so he wouldn't have taken advantage of that. Trust me, darling, once you've settled into your new situation he'll be humping your leg like the mad dog he is.”

Despite himself, Dick chuckles. “I very much doubt that, dear. ...You know I never mean any of those mean things I say when I’m mad at you, right?” he adds after a beat.

“I took for granted it’s understood that none of us does, love.”

“Mmh.” Dick sure hopes so. Crowley is the best friend he’s ever had and he _does_ love him dearly.

The silence that descends lingers for a while. There's a strange mix of sadness and content in both their scents. Dick listens to the ticking of the wall clock in the other room and wishes Dean was here with them. He finds it peculiar that he feels that way. It's the pack bond pulling at him. He hadn't expected the pull to be so strong. “If you had no intention to leave me… why do you say that we want different things?” Dick asks at last.

“Because you want a family. Maybe a kit of your own and lots of people around you. I want none of that. I want none of the responsibility a family demands. I want power, people bowing and scraping and jumping to obey.”

“I want that too.”

“Not like me, love. I'm more than happy with only one person's steadfast love and I've got two. I want power without the responsibility. But you thrive with the responsibility given to you. I knew the day would come when you'd leave me. I knew it when I mated a Packrunner, it wouldn’t last.”

“I'm not a Packrunner, dear.”

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

Dick makes a pathetic clucking noise―the same noise Peter once did for him―and hugs Crowley closer.

“Hey, hey. I'm not abandoning you, darling, mating bond or not. After what you did to my so-called family, I'll hold on to you as long as I can.”

“I didn't nothing to your family, dear. I had a doctor's appointment, remember?” Dick refutes then smirks. He'd actually liked Abaddon. She had something feisty and ruthless about her. If she'd grown up in the slums instead of as a spoiled rich brat, she'd have been a force to be reckoned with. Maybe then she'd have been prepared when Dick turned from pleasant guide to cold-blooded murderer without passing go. She'd come to New York with her parents when they came to let Crowley know he was on his own and no longer part of their family. Arranging the accident that left his mother barren had been harder. But the result was that Crowley now was his parents’ sole heir - the one they bragged about and doted on.

Crowley chuckles. “Naturally, darling. Naturally.”

* * *

Dean’s at home and awake when Sam comes home toting his gift basket. Dean scents the air and bounces out of bed to sniff at Sam’s neck and cheek. “Hot damn, Sammy! Is this your secret mate? Please tell me it is. This fucker is _hot_!”

Sam giggles flustered. “No, it's not. Just some guy I hooked up with on the bus.”

Dean follows Sam as he walks to the table to set the gift basket down. As soon as he stops moving Dean’s pressing his nose in the crook of his neck again, sniffing. “I call bull. This guy’s marked you up good. This is a fucking claiming, not a sit-on-a-stick kind of thing.”

“Uh… yeah. On the bus. We were the only passengers so we, uh…”

Dean cackles in delight and slaps his back. “Why, Sammy, I didn't know you had it in you, you kinky bastard. But seriously, this guy smells sexy and prosperous as fuck. You sure it's not the guy you almost got mated to?” He rubs himself against Sam's neck, but, Sam realizes, _not_ to mark Sam up, but to get Tom's scent on himself. Sort of an acceptance of the introduction. If Dean would meet Tom before washing him off Tom would know Dean's been introduced to him and liked what he smelt. The opposite of Sam's reaction to the Siberian. 

“Dean. He's mated.”

“So?”

“A mated Conservative.”

For a moment Dean looks stunned. “And he still courted you? Out of Heat? _On a bus?_ Damn.” Sam huffs another flustered laugh. He has the urge to tell Dean what really happened, but then Dean's demeanor turns serious. “He didn't mark you up against your will, did he? Cuz I'm telling you, Conservatives can harbour real fucked up views on Omegas. I don't like admitting it but I've had my share of unfortunate hook ups. Conservatives can be real tigers in bed, sometimes better than Primals in my experience. But they can get so fucking entitled afterwards. Like we'd need an Alpha to take care of us.”

“Relax, Dee. He was very respectful. And big. Biggest dick I ever saw.”

“Dick? Who cares 'bout the dick? How big was his knot?”

“Dean. Seriously.” Sam holds up his hand to show the size of Tom's dick.

Dean's eyes go wide. “Oh fuck. That's a fucking tripod.”

Sam chuckles and leans in to sniff at Dean. He'd caught the scent the moment he entered. “You had another date with Michael,” he says with a little smirk.

Dean gets a dreamy grin on his face. “I wouldn't know if I'd call it a date. Met him outside of the office and ended up knotted in the hotel across the street. Apparently, even corporate schmucks can have a thing for suits.” He gives Sam a shit eating grin and wiggles his eyebrows.

Sam pulls Dean in to burrow his nose on his neck. Michael smells so much like Lucifer and Raphael. Sam misses them. It's best if he avoids them until the date or he might end up mated prematurely. “How did work go?”

“It went well, I guess? My mentor Bartholomew is a complete and utter shithead, but… he's also a pretty kickass teacher. But don't tell him I said that.”

Sam chuckles. “Sorry, Dee, no can do. I'll tell him the next time I meet up with him for tea and gossip.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fuck off. Hey, what's this you brought home?” He turns towards the table and finally pays attention to the oversized gift basket that Sam had gone all gooey and fluttery about when Aze showed it to him.

“It's from my ma― the guy I almost mated.”

Dean sticks his nose back by Sam’s cheek. “You ain't lying to me about it not being this guy, right?”

Sam huffs in exasperation. “No. It's not. Haven't seen him since that night.”

“Then how'd he give you a gift?”

“He left it at Aze’s.”

“Alright. So he's sucking up. What did he get you?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Open it!”

Sam doesn't need more encouragement. Dean hangs over his shoulder while he unpacks. Almost everything has notes attached to it written with a gorgeous calligraphy. The jars of fruit preserves come with a note that this is supposedly a fruit basket but it wouldn't have quite the effect he's hoping for if Sam didn't come in to work for a couple of days and everything turned rotten. The jar of honey and small bags of spices makes Dean laugh, asking Sam if he’s fooled his mate he can cook. The purple shirt with the greyhound comes with a note saying 'no explanation needed’ which cracks Dean up. Sam would very much like an explanation but secretly loves the shirt. The phone excites Dean. He quickly pilfers it to program in his own number, Dick's office number, and, for some unfathomable reason - the Siberian's number. There are already two numbers in the phone. 'Your dashing mate’ and 'the other one’. Sam suspects Raphael didn't choose his own name in the phone book. The note for it says not to be a stranger, and 'Since you ran I'm not going to call like a pathetic loser in case you want nothing to do with me. I know how to respect boundaries. Don’t worry about the bills. I’ll take care of them.’

Sam agrees with that. Lucifer _does_ respect boundaries. He remembers very well how Lucifer had waited until he was awake and could say 'yes’ to their second go. He remembers Luci keeping track of his reaction when he squared up against Gadreel to chase away the competition. So he's giving Sam a phone so _Sam_ can get a hold of him, not the other way around.

There's a big bag of gummy worms that Sam drops fangs, flares and growls when Dean makes to grab them. Dean cracks up about that too but doesn't insist. They share the box of chocolate hearts (The note says ‘Because you melt my heart.’ Seriously?) and Dean whistles appreciatively about the bookstore gift card.

There are two big bottles tied together with an envelope. It says 'To Dean Winchester’. Dean hands over the wine bottle to Sam with a slight sneer but hugs the whiskey to his chest. Carefully he opens the envelope then bursts out laughing. Sam reaches for the envelope and asks “What does it say?” but Dean holds it out of his reach.

“Nu-uh-uh, Sammy. This is for my eyes only.”

It doesn't matter that Sam bitchfaces him, tries to reason, then begs. Dean won't let him read, only repeats what he just said while sniggering. Finally, Dean puts the whiskey and envelope in the cupboard and declares that if Sam touches either he'll be working with broken fingers his next shift. When Sam tries to argue Dean snarls. It's a sound of a Main losing patience so Sam gives up, peeved that Dean won't read the letter right now. Out of spite he refuses to open the two padded envelopes addressed to him. (Honestly, it’s not so much out of spite as it is the very faint scent he catches from them that hints at them being filled by something scented and encapsulated. Luckily, Dean doesn’t seem to catch this scent with his less sensitive nose, or maybe he just thinks it’s coming from himself being marked up by Michael.)

They go through the rest of the gifts - a card game, one of those multi-purpose hunting knives with a compass at the top of the shaft, and fishing line, hook, and fire steel inside. An orange beanie (‘So low flying aircrafts won’t fly into that gorgeous head of yours.’ Sam is not amused but Dean finds it hilarious.), thick, knitted socks in bright colours (the note says ‘Since you got cold feet’ and has both Sam and Dean laughing), a rain poncho with a cute kitten printed on, that can be turned into a pocket-sized packet, a golden necklace with the star of the One God. Sam holds up the necklace with a grimace and reads the attached note. “‘You never know when you are going to need this’,” he quotes.

“You don't want it?”

“No. What would I need a religious necklace for?” The more he looks at it, the more he’s reminded about what he and Tom did. While it’s a pleasant memory it still makes him scream internally. He doesn’t want a reminder.

“Can I have it?”

Sam frowns in bemusement. “Uh, sure.” He hands it over and Dean gleefully takes the treasure to grin at it. “Why do you want it?”

“For work, dumbass. We have to deal with all designations, right? And the best way to win people over is to make them think you are what they are. Like that fucker Bartholomew. He’s a Prog. But he wears the Star on his tie pin. And when I found out he was a Prog I went ‘Gotcha. No flaring.’ And he flared at me and went ‘Flare all you want, Packrunner, as long as you do it when it benefits us,” then he teethed at me.”

“Then he can’t be a real Prog, can he?”

“That’s what I said. You know what he did? He _growled_ at me.”

“ _No._ ”

“Yup. Prog, _my ass_ , but that’s what he said.” Dean gets a pensive expression and stares at nothing for a while. “Hey, Sammy, do you think there are people out there who can shift to have tentacles like we can get fur and claws?”

Caught off guard by the sudden topic shift Sam starts to answer seriously. “I don't think so but I’ve read that there are a few scientists who theorize that some people in Indonesia might have developed from the morphic octopus. There’s no proof and most of the scientific world refutes this as―” Sam’s jaws click shut when he sees the leery, shiteating grin that spreads across Dean’s face. “ _Ew._ Dean, no! Look, whatever you’re thinking, _don’t_.”

“Hey! I didn’t say anything!”

Sam gives him a bitchface of supreme disapproval.

Unperturbed, Dean goes on. “Where do you think their tentacles would come from? Like, from under their armpits? Or―”

“ _Stop_.”

“It could be hot. Picture them winding around you, your dick and―”

“ **STOP!** And they probably would have their arms turn into tentacles, not grow new limbs. Or perhaps their fingers. Just _stop this_.”

“If they look human unshifted they are human, just saying,” Dean answers then holds up his hands to stare at them with growing excitement.

Sam lifts his hands to look at them too, imagining his fingers turning into tiny tentacles. His stomach threatens to turn but he catches the faint beginning of arousal from Dean. “I think I’m gonna be sick. Something’s wrong with you. How are we even related?”

“But, Sam, think about the possibilities!”

“What? Like ending up with round hickeys over your whole body from the suckers?” Sam asks sarcastically with growing disgust.

“So you’re saying that they could probably suck on your nipples while the mouth is occupied elsewhere?” Dean waggles his eyebrows.

“No! That’s not what I’m saying! Dammit, Dean! Why are you like this?”

Dean just laughs at him since his big brother is an asshole. It leads to a playful tussle that ends with them on the bed first marking each up, then siphoning, then bonding closer. Afterwards, while siphon-high and drowsy Sam finally gives in and indulges Dean, making up theories of what shifting abilities a semi-aquatic human sub-species might have. That somehow leads him to think of mermaids. “If anybody who looks human is human… are mermaids human or fish?” he asks.

That question has Dean brooding for the rest of the night before they fall asleep.

* * *

Dean's gone off to work. Sam lies awake and stares at the cupboard. If he scrubs himself thoroughly with soap then puts gloves on, Dean won't be able to smell that he's read Lucifer's letter. Dean's already opened the envelope. He'd said Sam wasn't allowed to read but if he never finds out…

Sam's been tempted to get up and read since Dean left. They'd watched an early morning rerun of The Brosters and Dean was as sold as Sam. Sam should have gone straight back to sleep but curiosity keeps him awake.

30 minutes later he gets up to wash his hands with heart hammering hard and fast from the knowledge that he's about to do something _wrong wrong wrong_. He puts on gloves, goes to the cupboard and carefully takes the envelope out. He peeks inside. Inside there's another closed envelope with text on. Sam reads it.

_‘Nu-uh-uh, Sammy. This is for Dean's eyes only.’_

Sam scowls deeply at the envelope before putting it back as it was in the cupboard. Inside annoyance is warring with shame for breaking Dean's trust.

Dean had friggin _told him_ what it said. No wonder he'd been laughing his ass off.

Sam removes the gloves and goes back to bed. He feels caught in the act of doing something he shouldn't. He doesn't make another attempt to read.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Yo. In case you didn't get it - I know Dean says 'your' instead of 'you're' when he mimics Sasha. I misspelt it on purpose to underline flawed pronunciation. My pride bids me to clarify that. ;)
> 
> We're almost at the date now. :D Luci's letter to Dean comes first. Maybe something else too, possibly not.
> 
> Oh, and I was just informed by my wonderful beta that Margaret Mitchell, the woman who wrote _Gone with the wind_ , her mother was named Maybelle. I was going for a sort of _Gone with the wind_ feeling when I created Maybella and her relationship with Mr. Sloane, so despite this being a coincidence, it makes me really happy that there's an IRL connection between the famous play in this verse and the movie IRL.
> 
> And as usual, please comment! <3


End file.
